


One Without the Gun

by somedayisours



Series: A Splinter in My Mind [7]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (that's for FP and Alice), Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bad Parenting, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Rewrite, Character Death, Character Study, Dead Jason Blossom, Drug Dealing, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, FP Jones II tries, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gang Violence, Gen, Graphic Description, I haven't watched passed season one so everything is pulled out of my ass, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Incomplete, It's the bits a pieces of one story, Jughead Jones is Not a Southside Serpent, Mild Language, Murder, Murder Mystery, One Shot Collection, Out of Character, POV FP Jones II, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Past Alice Cooper & FP Jones II, Past Relationship(s), Redemption, Season/Series 01, THEY WERE LIKE SIBLINGS, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedayisours/pseuds/somedayisours
Summary: It's a do-over, FP doesn't plan on wasting it.





	One Without the Gun

There's a crowd of dark storm clouds rolling in from the east faster than the radio's weather watch had predicted the night before. The wind's already started to pick up in preparation of the storm that's about to come, rattling the branches far above him where the birds sit watching and stirring up the leaves that have yet to yellow.

Laying on the Eversgeen forest floor with his hands fisted in a grocery bag waiting for Clifford's efforts to buck him off to wane, FP has nothing better to do than watch the storm roll in. Clifford flops weakly, his hands clawing uselessly at his own neck as the bag tightens against his face with each desperate gasp for air. Even if he wanted to, FP can't afford to let Blossom go, not unless he wanted to find himself and then Jughead six feet under for it. So he lays in the dirt and rotting leaves until long after Clifford has given up the scratching and the pitiful flailing before shoving the body off him and stumbling to his feet on stiff legs.

He stands there for a moment shaking his jacket out and staring that the no longer smug face of a man who—in another time—would help ruin his life after FP attempted to put it back together. He can see Clifford's face through the plastic, his bulging eyes and his gaping mouth set in purpling skin. He'd clawed his own throat bloody, cut deep gouges into the earth where he kicked his feet over and over again. The body's far from a pretty sight but FP drinks it in all the same.

"They've stopped combing Sweetwater, again." He taunts the body while reaching into his back pocket for the crushed carton of cigarettes. "It worked well enough for your son."

Clifford doesn't respond, of course, but FP crouches down to tap the ash out on the older man's suit jacket anyways. The river's nearly too much of a risk, the fact he's still hanging around the body when everyone's on high-alert is worse. But there's still evidence to consider.

Sticking the cigarette back in his mouth FP stands and brushes off his dirt-stained pants with an indifferent hand, walking around the body to Clifford's feet and grabbing the man's ankles. Sweetwater's close enough, he can drag the body.

By the time he gets the both of them to the river bank the clouds have truly blown in, the wind has started to howl, and Sweetwater churns dark and hungry. FP tosses the dead cigarette into the water, jolting in surprise when the high-pitch ringing plays as he's taking his second cigarette from the pack.

A quick search of Clifford's pockets turns up the guilty part, still ringing with the picture of his bitch of a wife displayed. FP rejects her call, definitely the kind of thing Clifford Blossom would do he convinces himself.

FP pries off the plastic back of the phone with his teeth clenched down on the filter of his unlit cigarette. Pulling the battery out and chucking it as far as it'll go into the forest doesn't do much to stem the oncoming wave of anger so he turns back to the body and brings his foot down twice onto Clifford's face. He pulls the sim card from the phone and stuffs it in his own pocket for safekeeping, dropping the phone into the water below.

Clifford's next, a powerful shove over the edge and the body splashes into the water. He sinks, disappearing below the surface because the water's deep enough here and the undercurrent is strong enough to kill a fully grown man.


End file.
